Page 35 of Ruin Me With Lies

“Yeah?”I tilt my head.“Who else do we know that passed all the ‘trust’ tests but turned out to be living a double life the entire time?”

Lorenzo doesn’t miss a beat.“And whatnegativeeffect has Santo’s double life had on any of us?He was beneficial to usthen, and he’s even more beneficial to usnowthat the cat’s out of the bag.”He shakes his head.“Just because someone has secrets doesn’t mean they’re out to get us.”

Irritated, I shove up from my chair and walk off.“Update me when you find out more.”

“Always so damn dramatic,” he mutters to Gio.

As I move through the house, I shrug off my jacket and loosen my tie, tossing each piece onto whatever surface is closest.

“Is everything all right, Stefano?”Cora calls from somewhere.

“Fine,” I bite out, heading straight out the front door.

It’s irrational how worked up I am.Maybe it’s the weight of everything that’s piling on right now, but that Raya girl grinds my fucking gears.I’ll be damned if I credit her foranything.

Needing to clear my head, I jump into a Rover golf cart and start a slow crawl around the villa.

~

MAMMA WAS HIGHon morphine in her hospital bed when she slurred out her dream.An “oasis forla famiglia.”A place where worries couldn’t touch us.Where we’re safe inside its walls, had everything we needed, and never had to leave unless we wanted to.A refuge for battered women.A place filled with fun and laughter.

Mamma slipped into death with a smile on her face, dreaming an impossible dream, one with a theme park and theater.She’d spent her whole life dreaming.Because a dreamer without opportunity never becomes an achiever.

Mirabella Villa is the result of that dream.My posthumous gift to her.With a realistic twist, of course.Because her dream is expensive as fuck.People, even family, are shit.And in real life,nothingis free.

Reality looks a hell of a lot different than fantasy.

As I’m crawling past the south grounds, one of the guard dogs bound up to the cart, slobbery tongue lolling to the side.Grimmer.The only one of eight who tracks me down the second he catches my scent.

I stop and rub him between his clipped ears.“My loyal boy.Always on duty.While your lazy-ass buddies run around sniffing each other’s asses.”

Panting, he tilts his neck, angling for more scratches.“Hey, buddy, you sniffed out the new girl with the pretty green eyes yet?Raya.”I rub his head.“What do you think, huh?Liar?Thief?”

Grimmer whimpers and licks my palm.

“Seriously, Grimmer?You, too?”I scoff.“You disappoint me.”

He barks and tries to hop into the cart.

“No, not today.Next time.”

He whines in protest, and I rub his shiny black coat, giving him a few more scratches before driving off.

As I cruise through, patrolling foot soldiers throw me deferential chin-lifts.But the common staff duck their heads, avoid eye contact, and quicken their pace, as if I’ll punish them for existing.

Being at the helm is bittersweet.The bitter?None of these people, whose lives I’vepersonallymade better, ever bother to ask how my day is going.I’m dehumanized.They see me coming and panic sets in.Worry.Fear.Because I’msofucking cruel, right?

Ruling with fear is efficient.Keep things clean, organized, systematic.I make the rules.They obey.

That’s thesweet.

But just once, it would be nice if they looked at with something other than fear.With fucking gratitude.Like thesaviorI am.Not the big bad monster coming to eat them alive.

As The Pink House comes into view, I slow down.

Looks like a little pool party’s happening on the elevated deck.Bikinis, gyrating bodies, cocktails splashing over the edges of glasses.

Without my permission, my eyes scan the group.Searching.